


Another bunch of Barduil fics

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AKA, AUs, Barduil - Freeform, High School AU, Reincarnation AU, assassin/target au, body switch, fire in the college dorm au, i know you from another world au, lifeguard/drowning person au, meeting because of the kids au, mostly - Freeform, noir/private investigators au, paramedic/patient au, parts one and two, pta meeing au, reclusive ceo/cello player au, singing contest au, stranded in the elevator au, the store where we were was robbed au, tumblr ficlets, we both rented the same apartment au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little things I wrote on tumblr, stored here too so they are not lost in the oblivion of tags and gifs. A bunch of modern Barduil aus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PTA meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Ill send you all the modern barduil prompts. Starting with them being dads who meet at a pta meeting.

Parents really were a scary species.

For the last ten minutes Thranduil had listened to a woman complaining about how her child didn’t want to go to school in the mornings and how it was the school’s fault. How they should change everything so that her child would be happy going to school because if not the kid would be forever mentally scarred - just because of not wanting to go to school. A teenager.

"I’m sorry, ma’am. But our main aim is to educate the children, not amuse them." The teacher said.

But then another man started complaining about his son’s poor grades, blaming, again, the school and its teachers. And he wouldn’t stop talking. Thranduil looked around with a “can you believe this” look on his face, seeking the support of other non-crazy parent. A good looking man with dark hair sent a small nod his way. At least he wasn’t alone.

Thranduil and his son had moved to that relatively small town about five months ago, and while Legolas had adapted perfectly even after years of homeschooling, Thranduil was still a bit lost. He worked at home, so he didn’t get many chances to socialize. The parent-teacher meeting had seemed a good chance to meet people, but now… He felt even more lost than usual.

The good-looking dark-haired man’s name was Bard and he’d noticed this gorgeous new guy and how surprised he seemed at everything. He was more used to this kind of meetings where parents made all kinds of crazy demands, and teachers told them that kids needed to study more or they would get nowhere in life. None of them were right. Bard usually went to all of them, but teachers usually had no complaints of Sigrid’s behaviour, so he asked the occasional doubt and then laid back watched the show.

In the coffee break Bard went to the new guy.

"First PTA meeting?"

"Indeed. Are they always like this?"

"Sometimes there’s even physical parent-teacher violence. I’m Bard, Sigrid’s dad."

"Pleased to meet you. I’m Thranduil, Legolas’ father. I think our kids are friends."

Bard smiled. Yes, yes they were. Sigrid had told him about how nice this new kid was, and how he didn't have a mother either and lived with his dad, just like them. This was good.

"As horrible as it sounds, I think they’ve bonded over having no mother."

"Yes, I know. But I think the change of scenery has been good for Legolas, you know, and making new friends. And that’s what’s important."

"So you moved here recently."

"Yes, and to be honest, I still don’t know where half of the things are in this town. I keep thinking I’m still in Mirkwood, you know? And I don’t know anybody here, only Oakenshield and I think he hates me and I think I hate him, too."

Bard smiled, again. A plan forming in his head.

"Say, why don’t we skip the rest of the meeting and I show you around the city? I could be your ally in this."

"That sounds wonderful."


	2. Kids' graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Literally anything modern single dad au where they meet because of their kids please

It was the day of the high school graduation.

It was an emotional day, specially after all the hardships and all the loss. Today was a day of celebration, a day of achievement, a day of success. Sigrid looked wonderful and was taking pictures of herself with practically everyone, after many with her dad and siblings. They were finally ready to go, but Sigrid still wanted one more picture.

"Legolaaas! Come here!"

Bard had seen Legolas a couple of times at home, when he and Sigrid had been doing a group project, or had been lab partners or any other school activity. He seemed quite nice for a rich kid, and had excellent manners. He was also smart, so he got along quite well with Bard’s eldest. They could also talk about the loss of their mom - which was a sensitive subject around other people.

Legolas came and posed with Sigrid, with Bain taking their picture from every angle. With a peace sign, making silly faces, and so on and so on. Bard had been so focused on his girl’s happy faces and that he didn’t notice someone approaching.

"And one with Legolas’ dad, too!"

"Are you sure you want that, Miss Bowman?" Said the most majestic voice Bard had ever heard.

"Yeah, sure, you helped with that art project and got us tickets to classical music, you’re cool. Don’t screw this one, ok, Bain?"

So that was Legolas’ father. You could imagine that the father couldn’t be too bad-looking seeing his boy, but damn. What a monument of a man. Tall, perfectly dressed and just downright beautiful.

"I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Thranduil, Legolas’ father."

"Bard, nice to meet you."

"Can Sigrid and her family come with us?" Legolas asked, apparently not wanting to say goodbye to his friend.

"We were heading to the Mirkwood for a celebratory meal. Would you like to join us? All expenses would be on us, of course."

Well, it sounded tempting. A meal that he wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise, maybe some wine and some time to get to know this very interesting man better. Still, before Bard could answer anything Tilda screamed “fancy restaurant!” at the top of her lungs.

Thranduil drew an enigmatic smile.

"It’s been decided, then."

Bard smiled as well, as looked in the eyes of the man he’d just met. The day just kept getting better.


	3. The shop we were in was robbed - part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Modern AU where Bard and Thranduil are in line at the store, and a gunman comes in, and Bard saves Thrands life, thus Thranduil popping up and getting to know this poor but noble family that makes their way into his heart as he gets to know them. (This is just the beginning, I do mean to continue)

Thranduil wouldn’t have normally got into a big-chain store like that in a million years, but a lot of factors got together. His usual driver was picking up a client in the airport, he had a splitting headache and didn’t feel like driving, and the few cabs he encountered seemed to be ignoring him (which was odd, because he was commanding enough to make an average of three of them stop per minute). So he decided to walk a bit, see if the fresh air helped diminish his headache some.

It didn’t, so he entered a store he found looking for some aspirin. He’d had an unending day at work today and knew that when he arrived at home he’d be thinking about work, and receiving calls, and… Being the CEO of Mirkwood enterprises had never been an easy job, but now that Legolas had left it seemed to absorb him more than ever.

He looked at different brands of aspirin, unable to decide. One promised instant relief, while another said the effects lasted up to twelve hours. All lies, probably. He was so engrossed in his pill search that he barely registered someone entering and shooting in all directions, shooting and shooting, and shooting. He felt a sharp pain on his shoulder and someone taking him down to the floor.

He found himself on the floor, facing an unknown man that motioned him to be silent.

The store was being robbed by two crazy-hysterical people who were probably high on drugs. That was what was happening. There were two someones with quite a lot of fire-power, and one of them what making the cashier give him the money and the other was controlling the customers. When one of the clients tried to escape, he was shot. The other assailant laughed at the graitutous attack. Great, they really were crazy. Thranduil couldn’t see anything from his position on the floor, and was almost grateful for it.

"Anybody else moves a fucking inch and they end like mister I’m going to leave over there, ok?" One of the attackers said.

"Why not just gun ‘em all down?"

Thranduil didn’t want to listen anymore. Didn’t want to think about what was happening, and certainly didn’t want to think about the pain in his shoulder and the blood he was losing. So he focused on the man in front of him, the one that had taken him away from the line of fire. He was a brunette, about his age and looked infinitely calmer than him. When he noticed the staring, the other man mouthed an you okay? to which Thranduil just shook his head. The other man looked at him reassuringly, as if saying we’ll make it out of here.

And sure enough, three minutes and many swearing and warning shots later, the robbers were gone, and the clients could breathe in peace, finally.

The unknown man helped Thranduil up, and looked at him concerned.

"Hey, sorry I took you down so hard but you were in the line of fire."

"You saved my life." Thranduil said, disbelieving."I will be forever grateful."

The stranger smiled faintly and looked at his wound.

"It’s gone straight through, but you should probably put some pressure on it."

Thranduil's shirt and jacket were already soaked with blood and he felt a bit faint.

"Hey, still with me?"

"You saved me." Thranduil answered, still a bit dazed. "How can I ever repay you?"

"Don’t worry about it. I’m Bard, by the way."

"Thranduil." He swayed a bit, the headache and the bloodloss acting up, but Bard held him.

"Do you want me to stay with you until the ambulance comes?"

"Yes, please. If…if you don’t mind."

"It would be my pleasure." Bard said, making a little bow.

"My hero."


	4. The shop we were in was robbed - part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of chapter 4

Bard learned a bunch of things about the man hed saved while on the ambulance. He learnt that he had a son, but hadn't wanted to worry him, as he was abroad. He learnt that he was the head of an important enterprise and that he lived in the fanciest neighborhood of the whole town. He had saved an important executive. Later he also learned that he was a widower like him, who had raised his son mostly on his own.

Bard probably should have deduced how wealthy the other man was by his clothes, but he'd barely noticed them. He'd been focused on his face, on the look of pain and confusion on it as they were on the floor of that store, threatened my armed robbers. It han't been pleasant but Bard had focused on this man, this unaware simple customer looking for aspirin, to forget about his own danger. He'd wanted to make the other man feel safe, and felt himself safe too while doing so.

He had a weird a weird ethereal beauty, this man, as if he'd come straight from a fairy tale. Pale blue eyes and long blonde hair. Unusual, one didn't usually see many high executives with long hair. Still, it suited him. Bard couldn't take his eyes off the man as the EMTs worked on him. Out of your league, Bowman, he told himself, so out of your league it's even a different sport. They said goodbye on the hospital and Bard imagined he wouldn't see the other man unless in something related to the investigation of the robbery, if that other client died it would be murder, so they would probably have to testify.

He was wrong. Exactly a week later and just before he was getting dinner started, there was a ring on Bard's door. It was him. Thranduil.

"Hey!" Bard found himself speechless. «You're here!»

"Yes, I looked your address up, hope you don't mind."

«No, sure… ahmm.. you want to come in?»

«Of course.»

"So, how”s your shoulder?"

"I just came from the hospital actually, been there ever since. Turned out my headache wasn't just a headache… to cut a long story short, I would have died if I hadn't gotten to the hospital when I did. So you actually saved my life twice, I thought I could at least invite you to the dinner"»

"That sounds great, but I can't leave the kids alone."

"No matter. I will call the restaurant and tell them to bring it here."

"They do that?"

"They do if I am asking. There's four of you, right?"

"Yes, but…."

And just like that, he was having dinner with the man he saved, on his own house. They talked about the attack, and Bard found out that the other client that was shot was still in the hospital. The police hadn't taken Thranduil's statement yet, on account of his delicate state (Thranduil hadn't wanted to elaborate, but Bard could tell it had been bad, life-threatening bad) and he was dreading to talk to the officers. Bard could sympathise.

He introduced the kids to the man and told them they would be having a special dinner today. Tilda was specially excited at the prospect. The dinner was copious and lavish and the wine was excellent. Thranduil was great with the kids, too, even though he had a cold, almost mean exterior.

"So, can you tell us about the robbery?" Bain asked. "Da told us a bit but I think it was the very censored version."

"I was shot, you know?" Thranduil said, making it sound more interesting than horrible.

"You were shot? Did it hurt a lot?" Sigrid asked, suddenly interested.

"A lot. But your father took me out of the line of fire and we were on the ground. I hadn't even noticed what was happening, but suddenly I was on the floor and there were people with shotguns saying terrible stuff and shooting. And I was there, on the floor of one of the corridors, trying to be silent so they wouldn't notice me while my blood stained the floor. I was bleeding out but couldn't do anything, or the attackers would find me. But your father looked at me as if he knew we were going to live, and you know what? We did."

"Do you have a scar?" Bain asked.

"Oh, young man, I have a lot of scars, and none of them are pleasing to see while having dinner."

Bard had to stop himself from staring. He could have spent hours listening to that man. Thranduil had noticed the looks, but didn't mind. This brush with death had made him realise that he'd been alone too long and should take every chance he had at companionship. And this man looked interested in him as well, which was good. He had a lovely, kind-hearted family and a history similar to his own. Maybe being in the middle of a robbery and being shot hadn't been all that bad.

Bard was definitely interested too, and when they saying their goodbyes he said.

"Dinner was great, Thranduil. Next one is on me."

«Next one, huh? I’ll be looking forward to it, then."

"Despite everything, I'm really glad I was there, to take you out of the danger."

"I am glad too, Bard Bowman. Despite everything."


	5. I think I know you from another world modern au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody was sending prompts, so I prompted myself. Bard sees Thranduil and starts having flashback of another place and time. Of a love he used to have. Paramedic Bard, patient Thranduil. Warning: Angst. Will probably be continued.

Bard couldn”t stop thinking about him.

He usually didnt get attached to his patients, he rode with them in the ambulance and once they got through the doors of the hospital he lost sight of them. Besides, he couldn’t get into everyone’s stories. It would be too emotionally exhausting. But that was one of the good parts of being a paramedic and riding an ambulance, you didn't get to suffer because of the tragedies of these people.

But there had been something different about this man. Something that had affected him.

They had a call that man suffered from severe headache, fever and disorientation. It could be a number of things, or nothing. It was actually a pretty bad case of bacterial meningitis. They hadn’t caught it as soon as they should have and he was in a pretty bad state already, hardly even speaking. He vomited twice in the ambulance and whined softly. All of his strength seemed to focused on holding the hand of his son, who was riding in the ambulance with him. The boy didn’t speak much, but was clearly scared for his father.

"Thranduil" He said with a broken voice when asked about the name of his father. "His name is Thranduil."

And Bard’s heart broke a little because that boy couldn’t be much older than Sigrid. And he was witnessing his father be in a lot of pain. But as sad as the boy’s situation was, it wasn’t that which had affected Bard so much. No, it had been his look. Thranduil had looked at him, even through the pain, intensely, almost as if he knew him. And Bard had felt it too. Felt that he knew this man from another time, another world. Felt the weight of decades together.

Which made no sense.

_But I know you, don’t I? I even loved you._

He left the man, Thranduil, with the doctors and went back to his shift. But he couldn’t get him out of his head. The pale blue eyes, looking at him - _I know you. I know you. You are someone important to me._ Maybe he did actually know him from somewhere. The kids' school? A friend of a friend? No, he would have remembered a face like that. Striking. Beautiful. Imposing. Even in the terrible state they found him, there had been something about him… almost royal. He tried to think of something else, get back to work as he usually did, but couldn’t.

_Thranduil. My ally. My lord. My…_

Where were this thoughts even coming from?

When he finished his shift, instead of rushing back home to the kids, he stayed and asked one of the doctors how Thranduil was doing, and where he was. He found himself drawn to the room where the blonde was, on an uncomfortable sleep.

His boy was sitting by his bedside, holding one of his father’s lifeless hands on his own. He was familiar, too, even if the feeling was not as strong as with his father.

"You're the man that came with us in the ambulance." The boy said when he saw Bard entering the room.

"Yes."

"Do you think he'll recover? I have read that a lot of people with this disease have complications. That my father may end blind or deaf."

"Well, we’re doing all that’s medically possible. He’s on antibiotics, oxygen and steroids for the swelling. Now we can only wait."

As he slept on the hospital bed, Bard watched Thranduil’s flawless features, and saw himself caressing those cheeks, waking up next to him in a wooden bed with silk sheets. Saw himself embracing the pale and long body. Saw himself somewhere far away, with him and him alone.

He didn't understand what was happening, why were this thoughts suddenly in his head. Maybe he was infatuated with this man and had made himself a backstory to justify it. But why would he be infatuated with a meningitis patient he'd never even spoken to?

"Your mother is not coming?" Bard asked the boy.

"My mother died when I was a child. There’s only us."

Oh, boy, If it wasn’t tragic enough already.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"I want to stay here."

"Boy…"

"Legolas."

"Legolas, your father is going to spend a lot of time in the hospital, possibly weeks. You can't be here all the time, you’ll only get sick yourself. You need to sleep. They’ll call you if something happens, okay?"

"I don’t want to sleep alone. I’ll have nightmares. I'll watch him die. I want to stay here, so when I wake up, I know it’s not true."

But Bard couldn’t leave the boy there, abandon him. Because Legolas was important too, somehow.

"Come with us. You can sleep in my daughter Sigrid’s room, she has a nest bed. And tomorrow you get a shower and a good breakfast."

Legolas accepted after some convincing and they left for Bard’s humble home.

That night Bard had a strange dream with dragons, dwarves and an enormous mountain. Everything was different but the kids were there, looking just the same. And he was there, too. Thranduil. He was a king and an ally, more than a friend. Had lost his wife, just like him, had faced dragons, just like him. And Bard felt everything. He'd been there, fighting for his claim on Erebor, whatever that meant. And Thranduil had been by his side.

The next few days he kept going to visit Thranduil, over and over.

As he watched the man sleep, surrounded by all those machines, a treacherous thought passed through his mind, uninvited and appearing out of the blue.

_How did this happen to you, my immortal love?_


	6. Body swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: I was wondering if you could maybe write a fic for this Barduil prompt: Bard & Thranduil accidentally switch bodies; Thranduil finds it difficult to get used to human flaws (excessive sweating, falling ill, etc) and is basically miserable, but Bard really can't complain in his crush's almost perfect body and is like 'nice'. Hope I did it justice!

When Thranduil woke up, he knew something was off. The air was different. The sound were different. The whole atmosphere of the place was different. He was no longer in Mirkwood. And he was different too, he could hear less, smell less, feeling everything much less - less sharp, less clear, just less. And he realised that, bad as it may had been, he had vision in both eyes. Something was wrong. Extremely wrong.

He looked at his hands and found that they were not his smooth, long hands, more a pair of more tanned and rough ones, calloused and half healed. He started breathing funny, suddenly realising how little control he had of this new body. He appeared to be in some sort of small house, filled with rudimentary items, as if it was the dwelling of a family of men. Maybe it was. His hair didn’t along his back, either. It was shorter than he could remember.

Thranduil came to horrid conclusion that this was not his body.

He tried to look for something reflecting to look at himself and tripped on his own feet. This body was stupid, short, and got hurt. Stupid mysterious body!

Hearing some noise, Sigrid woke up too, and went to see what was happening. Apparently, her father had tripped. Nothing important. But Sigrid couldn’t help noticing something weird in her father. He was standing so upright it was incredible and held his hands and himself in a weird manner.

“Da, is something wrong?”

Her father raised an eyebrow in an impossible way and said:

“I am not your... Wait, are you not one the Bowman’s children?”

“Da, why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

 _Thranduil-in-Bard’s-body_ ’s eyes widened.

“Am I... Am I Bard.... the bowman? Which means he is in my body... and maybe he knows who cast this spell”

“He? Who are you talking about, Da? What spell?”

Thranduil got closer to the young girl, and found that he needed too many clumsy steps to get there. Ugh, how could men live like this all the time?

“Your name is Sigrid, if I recall correctly. Well, dear Sigrid, believe it or not, this is not your father speaking. Someone, some foe no doubt, put me in your father’s body.”

“And you are...?”

“Thranduil.”

“The Elvenking.”

Sigrid looked at his father’s eyes and somehow knew that it was not his father looking behind them. It made sense, being so upright, moving so elegantly... Could it be true? Could it really be the elvenking under his father’s appearance?

As the day progressed, Thranduil complained about being hungry, being thirsty, having to pee (so many times!), getting hurt so easily, seeing so little and generally being human. Bain understood what was going on but didn’t want to believe it, and Tilda just thought his Da was playing a game.

To Sigrid’s surprise, though, Thranduil filled perfectly the role of parent, breaking fights between Bain and Tilda, reminding them to do their chores and establishing a fun way to a better hygiene (because oh, yes, _Thranduil-in-Bard_ ’s body found everything dirty). At the end of the day, some messengers from Mirkwood came, stating that the king wanted to see them.

Good. Maybe Bard could help them resolve that situation.

The reunion did not go as expected.

It appeared that Bard had been drinking all day long to relieve the shock and stress from the body change - and found it delicious. So he drank and drank and drank and didn’t get drunk. He practically didn’t even had too pee either, and he could move so fast. So really fast, and see so far and _WOW this was so great!_ Ok, he couldn’t see from one eye and didn’t really know how to keep the glamour from the scars in place but hey. Still, pretty good.

And then he had a bath, because some of his underlings (he had people he gave orders to! he asked for the kids to be brought and they sent a whole squad of elves and some sort of carriage!) had noticed he was acting weird and thought a bath could calm him. When he took off his clothes, Bard couldn’t take his one good eye off himself. What a body, sweet lord. Long legs, smooth chest, flawless skin... He was a god of beauty! An absolute god! He’d been right in wanting to see Thranduil naked.

A slightly tipsy Bard in Thranduil’s body and an still unaccostumed to human’s ridiculous vision Thranduil in Bard's body chatted, both ignorant of the cause of the switch. While researching for a counterspell, Bard and his family lived in Mirkwood, in the Elvenking’s chambers for guests. The kids loved it.

When the cure was eventually found, they were almost sad to have no reason to stay together.

They didn’t remain apart for long. Not five days later, Thranduil appeared back in Dale and Bard didn’t ask why he was here, he just smiled. He had lived for some time in the king’s body and with him as well, knew first-hand how strong and complex he was. He delighted in his presence. And so did Thranduil.


	7. Writer and fan modern au

That night, tears in his eyes as he closed the book, Bard decided that Thranduil Oropherion was possibly the best writer ever. The best to ever exist. Screw the classics, screw everyone.

He simply made words come alive. As he read those tales of far away forests, Bard became one of their inhabitants. He became that noble king that faced dragons and was fearful but at the same time brave in the face of adversity. He was this king who became an efficient leader to protect his family, he became them and he lived what happened. He was there. And he watched the pages flow, timelessly, in awe at the wonder of the story, and in horror of having to say goodbye to the woderful world there built, as the characters that had practically become his friends, when the pages ended.

He was just so extremely good.

Many people dismissed him, for the genre in which he wrote. “Dungeons and dragons stuff” they said “too many pages, too many…elves and dragons.” They had no idea. The series written by Thranduil were so much more than that. They were adventure and they were joy, they were family and friends, and unimagineable landscapes, they were good and evil too big to comprehend, they were pain and loss and all the things that made life worth living.

It was 3am and Bard had to wake up in three hours, but he did not regret staying all night up reading. It had been a wild ride, an incredible journey, and he felt part of it. Another member of the epic quest.

So, when it was announced that the author would be signing books in his town, Bard didn’t hesitate. He would have to get time off work and a nanny to get a good place, but he would be there when Thranduil read an extract of his upcoming book and he would have this incredible last one signed.

When the day arrived, Bard got a front row seat for the reading and listened carefully to every word. If being talented was not enough, Thranduil was also extremely beautiful and had one of the most amazing voices ever. Grave, imposing but soft in some moments.

In a moment of bravery, Bard wrote something in the first page he was getting signed. Just two sentences.

_Read my story?_   
_The town by the lake - Bard Bowman_

Yes, Bard wrote a bit too, when we found time between work, the kids and taking care of the household, and he was mostly influenced by the man in front of him. He’d published his work in on the internet, for free, and got some nice reviews. Wouldn’t it be great to have the feedback of the best writer ever?

Thranduil looked bored and condescending, as he usually did in public acts, but Bard didn’t care. That was a façade, the real Thranduil was the one in the pages, the one capable of creating worlds far away, and still making them relate to broke dads who work too many hours in excessively ordinary places.

When his turn came, Bard handed away his copy to be signed, taking in his favourite author’s delightful features (honestly, he could have been deformed and half blind and Bard would have still found him beautiful. Because he was Thranduil, and he had given him so many good moments with his writing).

"Thank you for this book." Bard said. "You write grief, you understand grief in a way few people do, writers or not."

Thranduil looked up, intrigued by this admirer. Bard held the writer’s icy blue stare.

"That is kind of you to say…Bard Bowman." And he returned the book with flawless grace, eyes still connected.

When he finally looked away, Bard’s knees were shaking. That had been…something.

Something else. Something special. Something magical.

The memory of that look, of those pale blue eyes, remained with Bard, was in his dreams and in his waking moments, was with him. Beyond all that cold cruel emtionless crap people associated him to, Thranduil looked… intense. Deep. Unending.

One week later, Bard received a small postcard of a Canadian lake town in the mail. Intrigued, he turned it around.

_Your story was good._   
_Would you meet me for coffee so we can discuss some writing ideas?_   
_The Mirkwood, five o’clock. Bring some flowers._   
_Thranduil_

Bard almost fainted then and there.


	8. Noir au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thranduil and Bard are shady private investigators with shady pasts and presents. Just because. Warning for some swearing and kisses in the rain

Bard was smoking a cigarrette in bed, something he hadn’t done in a long time. And there hadn’t been someone in his bed in a long time, either. It had been too long, maybe. But he had been to busy to even consider doing something like this.

As a private investigator, Bard had a fair share of enemies. He had put too many people in jail, spoilt too many good plans. He was ruthless getting the info his clients wanted, stopped at nothing - he was one of the best. He had taken down mobsters, exposed frauds and ended many shady dealings. He knew his job and he did it in a starightforward and efficient way. Second to none.

Or perhaps only second to the gentleman softly sleeping next to him, a gorgeous blonde who went by the name of Thranduil, also called the Elvenking. (Bard had no idea why, but had to admit that the nickname suited him). Bard had dealt with him for contacts, tips and so on, although it had been mostly over the phone. Hadn’t seen him all that much. They had a strictly professional relationship. Couldn’t have ever expected him to end up like this. He started thinking about the events of the evening, and how things had ended the way they had.

—-

Bard had left the kids in a neighbour’s house and went for a drink.

There were not many people in the Laketown anymore. Ever. What used to be a well known pub among middle class people of the area had become almost desserted after Smaug came to town. People had defected to the Dale, even to Oakenshield’s new place. Bard had been friendly with the man once, even offered hospitality at his own crowded flat when needed. But that seemed to be forgotten. Oakenshield had turned against everyone.

And now Smaug was dead. Bard had killed him. There was some lines that couldn't be crossed for Bard. Threatening his family was no one of them. He didn't regret it.

"Another whiskey." He asked.

"On me." Said a silky voice behind him. "And some wine for me, if you have it."

Bard knew that voice, didn't have to look to know who it was.

"The Elvenking himself. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?"

"I was looking for you, actually. I can help you if you help me."

"Is this about Erebor?"

Erebor had been Smaug's manor, where, if the rumor was true, he hid all that he had stolen. Like a bunch of things from the Laketown, and some of Bard’s too.

"I want to reclaim something of mine."

Thranduil said enigmatically, and sipped his wine. Fucking flawless, he was. While in his job, Bard had gotten drenched from the rain, dirty, bruised… But Thranduil always looked perfect. Except for the scars in his face he carefully tried to hide, Thranduil was blonde perfection. Always in place, always wearing those expensive clothes. They said he had never failed in a case, never failed to deliver. And he acted like it, too. Smug bastard.

"Oakenshield promised he would share." Bard said. "He said he would give back some of the riches to the Laketown."

"He won’t." Thranduil stated, convinced. "I know him, I know his type.You can try and talk to him, if you like, but it will be no use."

"So, you’re proposing we become allies to get what is ours. Make Oakenshield true to his word whether he likes it or not."

"Exactly."

And the fucking Elvenking smiled mischievously at him and Bard knew he was lost. Knew he would use any excuse to be with the guy. All the bottled up felings came to the surface, full force. He wanted him, plain and simple - and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Part of him was conflicted about being so attracted to a man. Antoher part didn’t really care. Eventually, and as the night and their alcohol intake progressed, that part won.

And he’d gone out of the pub and shoved the blonde man against the dirty wall of the alley behind the pub and kissed him in a way he hadn’t kissed anyone since his dear dead wife. And Thranduil had responded just as passionately. It was raining, raining hard, Bard’s battered brown trench coat getting soaked, Thranduil’s golden hair too. It didn’t matter.

It was raw, it was real. It was fucking unexpected, but, hell, was it intense.

——-

And as he smoked his cigarrette and remembered how the night had come to pass, he wondered where the hell had all this come from, and what he’d gotten himself into. This probably meant trouble, even more trouble. As if he didn’t have enough of it already.

Who cared anymore. Out of the window, the city was dirty and corrupted, made of shades of grey and black, crime and blood. But in that bed, and with that monumental man beside him, Bard felt like a real king. Not a concern in the world.

Well, maybe one.

What the hell was he gonna tell the children?


	9. Lifeguard/drowning person AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is a lifeguard. Thranduil is a swimmer. Angst happens.

Bard had been in a lot of summer jobs, and this was one of his favourite. Due to their precarious economical situation, Bard could never take the kids out on expensive holidays, but when he got jobs as a lifeguard, at least he could take them to the beach all day, and more or less be with them. And they got to play around in the sand, and take long walks, and swim a bit and splash each other - much more fun than if he’d got a job as a mechanic, or a waiter, or something of the sort.

Having grown up near a very deep lake, swimming was practically second nature to Bard. He’d fished on the lake, he’d gone from one shore to the other countless times. The ocean could be a bit trickier, even if this was usually a calm beach, because of the current and the waves, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He was fast, agile, and had good eyes.

There were many perks to the position, besides being able to provide a fun summer-y plan for the kids. You got to spend all day in the sun, eat ice cream and hear the calming sound of the sea all day. Of course, it also came with a lot of responsibility because people’s lives were at stake, but still. Bard also enjoyed watching the different people that came to the beach, like the older couples who didn’t even go near the water, the huge families with noisy kids or the lovey-dovey couples on a romantic getaway.

That day, while keeping an eye on anyone who could be in trouble, Bard got a bit smitten with a tall blond man in the middle of the beach. He had almost effortlessly put up some elegant tent to protect his pale skin from the sun and was watching the passersby and sipping wine he had in one of those portable fridges, with a cup. He was looking at his surrounding as if from a height, as if he were the king of the beach. He seemed specially bothered by a group of short hairy men that had stumbled near his make-shift beach throne.

Bard tried to go back to his usual thoughts, but found himself wishing Sigrid or Bain became friends with the man’s kid (an equally flawless blond boy) so they could talk or something. Really. He’d never met too many interesting people in the barrel factory or when he worked in that boat back in Laketown, and sometimes he felt like it. The kids were great, but it had been a really long time since his wife died, and with all the hours he had to work to raise three kids he didn’t have much time to meet people, be with adults.

Not that he would have anything in common with that beachland king, probably. Just that they had kids the same age. But still, there was something special about this guy - Bard kind of felt that he knew him, and that this would be the kind of person you would like on your side on a conflict. The wine having ran out, he was now looking at the horizon, perfectly still. As if time and the concerns of the mortals had no meaning for him.

But Bard was a mortal, and had a kid stung by a jellyfish who he had to take care of and so he did. The day was relatively uneventful until about four in the afternoon. Bard saw the mysterious blond go to the water and was not surprised when he saw his figure swimming perfectly as if to him, too, swimming was second nature. Bard looked at the kids swimming in the other corner of the beach, to make sure everything was fine, and then back.

But when he looked back the man was nowhere to be seen.

He’d gone underwater and hadn’t resurfaced. Maybe he was just diving (but there was a bad feeling on the pit of his stomach, telling him it was not the case). Bard waited 30 seconds and raced off to where he’d seen him last. It was unlikely that a swimmer like that would just start drowning but there could be a million causes. He’d been trained to know them.

Bard found the man unconscious underwater and swiftly took him out of the water and raced back to the sand withhim in his arms. It wasn’t easy, because the blond was taller and longer than him (not to mention a completely dead weight) but Bard’s natural strength combined with adrenaline were making his job easier. As soon as he’d found the man Bard had known it was going to be bad.

And it was bad.

When he arrived to the shoreline, Bard placed the blond on the sand, as a small group of people formed around him. (Luckily, Sigrid helped him keep the peepers at bay, so he would have room) Bard quickly placed his face on the man’s chest, looking for movement, trying to feel if he was moving air, breathing. He wasn’t. He checked for pulse, then, waited the ten mandatory seconds and nothing. No breathing, no pulse.

(Bard tried to ignore the little panicky shout of _Ada!_ from the man’s boy, but gosh, was it difficult)

Bard started giving CPR, compressing the white chest over and over and over and over. One, two, three, four, five, until thirty, and then checked to see if the man had started breathing.

He hadn’t. He fucking hadn’t.

So Bard had to close the man’s nose and breathe into him, and continue with the compressions. He was so painfully aware of the man’s pale white, almost blue skin tone. Painfully aware of that kid’s eyes on him, painfully aware of how with each compression nothing was happening,

_Come on, man, breathe!_

Bard kept at it, repeating the cycle. One and again and three times and then antoher times. He heard Sigrid telling him that she’d already called 911 and an old man saying something like _leave it, son, you did all you could_ and Bard just kept at it. His arms were tired, so tired, but he kust KEPT.AT.IT. He had to. There was no other choice.

_You are not dying on me, you golden king. Not on my watch._

After some more painfully long seconds, the chest finally heaved, and the blond started coughing. Relieved, Bard moved him to the side, to clear the airways properly. He had made it. Some poeple applauded, and Bain rewarded him with a _great job, Da_. Bard’s eyes were still on the man, who coughed for a while longer and then his boy came to him, practically in tears.

Among the muffled whispers Bard heard something on the lines of “you scared me”, “gone like mother” which probably meant that like his own children, the boy had no mother. Boy, was Bard that he had kept with the CPR. They could already hear the sirens of the ambulance in the background. Good. The medical personel would give him all the care Bard was not qualified to give.

But before he was taken, the man looked at Bard. His breathing still funny and mostly composed of coughs and he didn’t say anything, just made a little bow with his head and looked at his savior with those startling blue eyes. He was completely drenched, and still dangerously pale, sand in his hair and he was looking at Bard. Seeing him.

A shiver coursed through the lifeguard and weirdly enough, he felt that this was important. That this man was important, that this moment was important.

The ambulance took him away and they both left, him and the kid. Luckily, Bard found an excuse to find them in the hospital: they had left everything behind, so Bard asked his kids to put their things on his post so they could return them when he finished his shift. The hospital wasn’t too far, so they were there really soon.

The man was in observation, looking slightly better and the boy seemed happier, too. It was an improvement.

"My saviour."

Bard smiled.

"Glad to see you’re doing better. We brought the belongings you left at the beach."

"That was so kind of you. Legolas, why don’t you invite the nice lifeguard’s children to ice-cream or whatever they want. So we can start repaying them."

A couple of hours after being practically dead and he was already commanding, ruling the situation. What a man.

"Sure."

The kids left, and then there was only Bard and the blond in that hospital room.

"It’s Bard." he said, awkwardly. "My name, I mean."

"Pleasure. Mine is Thranduil."

Unusual, but fitting.

"Can I ask what happened, Thranduil? You seemed to be quite an experienced swimmer."

"I lost consciousness while diving. I barely had time to realise what was happening, much less to signal something. Tests are being ran to see why I fainted."

It made sense.

"Well, let’s hope it’s nothing serious, then."

Thranduil seemed thoughtful.

"Bard, I… there no words to express my gratitude. You saved my life and left only a bruise in my chest." (Yes, Bard’s hand’s imprint was there, in the middle of Thranduil’s chest, clears as day). "You gave me a second chance, prevented my son from becoming a complete orphan - like I said - no words. So let me make it up to you in actions. Whatever you want, whatever you need, you have my eternal gratitude."

Bard drew a small sly smile.

"Why don’t we start with dinner?"


	10. Fire in the dorm college au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire in the dorm room Barduil au!

Bard hadn’t liked his new roommate at first.

He was some sort of art major, Bard didn’t know exactly which type, and was cold and distant. They said hello and goodbye, cleaned their things and asked to be let in, that kind of thing. All business and no fun. So Bard didn’t think much of the man that shared the place where he lived and where he spent so many hours.

The roommate, Thranduil, was hot, yes, but was also rich and looked a bit condescending. A working class man himself, Bard had struggled to pay the tuition fees, and had a huge debt even though he was working and studying at the same time. So, he didn’t have much love for his artsy roommate, and wondered why had they’d been placed together at all. What could they have in common?

Sometimes, Bard felt that there was more to him than that rich obnoxious tall guy. He saw something in him, hidden emotion behind those icy blue eyes, maybe a kind word, maybe an escaped tear on his cheek. But it was really hard to see past the overwhelming cold exterior he put up And Bard had no time for that. Or anything other than working and studying.

Bard also wondered what he was doing here, in this dorm. Surely there were better ones, more fancier ones somewhere else? And that Thranduil guy could really afford them. He could probably afford anything he wanted (what a dream!). But Bard had seen him on the forest that was in front of the dorm quite a few times, or returning from it. Maybe that was why he put up with old furniture and faulty appliances, to be close to the forest. He did look like a nymph of some sort.

Still, Bard didn’t like him. Until that one day.

Bard had arrived exhausted from work the previous day and had fallen asleep almost instantly. After a week of working and studying, it was his one moment of relax: sleeping. And so he slept, profoundly, for a few of hours. When it was too way too early, there was someone shaking him on his sleep. Bard wanted them to stop, but the shaking continued.

"Bowman! Wake up! The apartment’s on fire! We need to go! Bowman!"

Bard’s mind didn’t process Thranduil’s words at first. And then it hit him.

Fire.

He was up in seconds.

Bard saw the entire kitchen on fire and how it had spread to the door and the whole opposite wall. Still, no alarm was heard. They were in trouble, in big trouble. How the hell where they going to get out if they couldn’t reach that whole area without burning themselves? Shit.

"Put your shirt over your mouth and nose so you don’t inhale all the smoke." Thranduil said, having done so himself. "I tried to put it out when the smell of smoke woke me up, but couldn’t. And apparently all the extinguishers are on the hallway."

"So what do we do?" Bard said, his mind going at one thousand mile per hour. "Keep trying to put it out? Cover ourselves in blankets and try to cross over?"

Thranduil shook his head.

"There”s no guarantee that the hallway isn’t on fire as well."

Fuck.

Through the cackling of fire, Bard heard Thranduil cough, and saw that his eyes were bright and that he’d burnt himself a bit, probably when trying to put out the fire. He’d been closer to it, he had probably inhaled more smoke than him, and his coughs were making Bard more and more anxious. They didn’t have time to wait for firefighters. Hell, they didn’t even know if someone was coming.

"You ever been in a fire before?" Bard asked, fishing for ideas.

He had known about the shirt thing, right? But Thranduil shook his head, again, and the fire was spreading, the fire was fucking spreading and the door seemed less of an option with each passing moment. There had to be some way, something they could do…

"It’s spreading." Thranduil said, in between coughs. "The window. The window is our only way out." He went to try and open it but it wasn’t cooperating while Bard looked on, shocked. Thranduil looked down - it was a long long fall.

"But we’re on a third floor!" Bard said. There had to be something else they could do. Why did they have so much wooden things in the building? Why.

"It’s the only way out. If I have to die, I would rather do it crushed against the floor than burnt alive."

Bard thought for a second - they didn’t have much time. The fire was spreading fast, filling what little breathable air they had left with smoke. But the floor was too far. And then something occured to him.

"We can throw our mattresses down to stop the fall!"

The flames were getting close, too close.

"Yes, we do that." Thranduil said, slightly hopeful. "If I can open this damned window."

"Let me help."

So Bard went to that old window and with their combined strength, and after some excruciating seconds in which alll seemed lost, they managed to get it open. They breathed the cool air of the night for a bit.

Quickly, they threw their beds, blankets and all, through the dorm window. The flames were almost everywhere. It was a darkened hell and this was their last desperate move to get out of it.

"Go." Thranduil said, and there was something in his pale blue eyes so unspeakably sad, so…doomed.

But Bard did not have time to dwell on it. Trying not to think much about it, he leapt out of the window.

The fall was scary, but ended quickly. He was lucky enough to land mostly on his mattress, so even though there was a decent distance between the window and the floor and it had been a tough arrival, he was in one piece and no longer suffocating. He had been lucky that Thranduil had been so insistent about the window - Bard knew that if he had been alone he would have probably tried to put out the fire before throwing himself off a third place. Speaking of, where was he?

Bard waited anxiously to see his roommate emerge from that window. What if the flames had already caught him? What if he was burning, or had passed out from the smoke? What if he had left him to his death?

_Come on, come on!_

Bard wouldn’t have made it without him waking him up before the fire had consumed everything, without him helping him with the window, _don’t you dare die now!_

The seconds were agony as he saw the shadows of the flames on the window. Seconds turned into a minute. Possibly the longest minute in Bard’s life.

"Thranduil!" he screamed with all the trength his smoke-filled lungs allowed him, his voice breaking a little at the end. "Thranduil!"

The blonde finally emerged and jumped, gracefully landing close to Bard, most of his long frame falling on the part where his and Bard’s mattress where one on top of the other.

He was shaking, and practically coughing up his lungs.

But he was there, alive and mostly whole. He had small burns in his face and feet (probably from the windowsill) but was otherwise intact.

"You all right?" Bard asked, when the coughing subsided a bit. "Hey, you okay?"

"I thought… I thought we were going to die there… in that fire…"

Out of the blue, Bard embraced his room mate. Because he needed the human contact, because he needed to reassure himself they were both alive, for so many reasons. After some hesitant seconds, Thranduil returned the embrace and held on to Bard with strength.

"We made it." Bard kept saying. "We made it."


	11. High school au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: Could you do a Barduil AU where Thranduil is a jock in high school who's a bit of a jerk but he's got a major crush on Bard?

Thranduil had everything. He was the shining star of their high school, the best and brightest of them all, rising above all of them surly teenagers. He was the Lacrosse captain and was wouldn’t think he was that athletic seeing how thin he was, but he was deceptively strong.

As if that wasn’t enough, he was also good in math, languages and espcially arts, and got only straight A’s. He wasn’t excessively popular amongst the teachers, because he always seemed to be fighting for power with them. To rule the class. He was also head of the student council and their representative in board meetings. Tipped the balance of power from the principal to the students, which had earned him the nickname of King Thranduil.

He was a bit of an eccentric too, with the long hair and organic food he brought from home. Still, no one dared tell him anything. There was something slightly menacing about him, something almost scary about the sharp way he looked at people. He had a kind of entourage that followed him around and did what he told them to, but not many friends. It wasn’t easy being friends with someone as imposing and brutally frank as him.

And yes, he had everything… everything but one thing. The attention of the most interesting guy in their year, a Bard Bowman.

Thranduil had seen him on the hallways, with his shoulder length black hair and his faded leather jacket. He didn’t have a lot money, but managed to get into their school - and not fail everything. He didn’t take anyone's shit, and was beyond popularity or girlfriend concerns. And Thranduil had seen him pretending he had done his homework and inventing it when asked. Had seen him smile when a class was cancelled and had been interested. Yes, Thranduil was interested.

But for some reason, he wasn’t his usual fabulous self around Bowman. Hell, he was hardly articulate- he froze. Which was stupid, and childish and not up to his standards of perfection. So there he was. When he tried and failed to make some contact, his poor minions and lacrosse team mates paid for it. Well, Thranduil had never pretended to be nice.

One day he was late to class, and got paired off with the only other person who had been late too. Bard Bowman. Good. He would use this opportunity to shake off that stupid crush and act like the king he was. Reclaim control of the situation.

But once sitting there, Thranduil was rendered once again speechless. What could he say? He didn’t want to be his usual mean self, but he didn’t want to sound desperate or boring or… Lucky for him, it was Bard who broke the ice.

"Hey, you’re on the student board and those things, right?"

"….Yes?"

"You know of any college scholarship in which you don’t need great marks? I mean, my marks aren’t bad, but not good enough for the ones I’ve seen."

"I’m sorry, I don’t know."

Bard looked at him for a bit. Fucking rich guy, with his perfect hair on a bun and his nails painted like it was the most normal thing in the world. Unlike most of his friends, Bard didn’t dislike him specially. That Thranduil knew how to put people in their place, how to stand his ground. If only he wasn’t so bloody perfect.

"You know, it’s fucking unfair. Because you could proably get two or three with the sport and art and you can actually afford uni. If only they were transferable, right?"

"I probably wouldn’t anyways. I don’t give away what belongs to me that easily… Unless I really like the person."

There was something in his words… something that made Bard look at his partner differently.

"Do I fall into that category? Would I get one of your scholarships?"

Thranduil looked at him with those ridiculously pale eyes.

"Possibly."

_Smooth, Thranduil, smooth._

He tried to avoid the blush creeping to cheeks and distract himself with classwork but could feel his partner’s eyes on him.

Bard was starting to like this. He’d never thought someone like Thranduil would be interested in a guy like him, but he had to admit, it was kind of mutual. The more the other boy looked at him and spoke, the more into it he was.

They got into the assignment and left things like that, although there was much left unspoken. So Bard decided to do something about it.

The next day Bard sat next to Thranduil in lunch ( _I tried to think of an excuse but really, I just wanted to sit next to you._ he said, and Thranduil blushed and Bard smiled, victorious). And they talked about music and Thranduil lied about having invitations to that Depth and Current concert because Bard was interested and this was his chance and everything was going great.

And it was, it was a great date and Thranduil got over that stupid crush shyness (with the help of some alcohol) and they kissed and started something. Something that was nothing important at first, just sneaking off to make out under the bleachers and rolling eyes at each others when teachers were being boring, but eventually became something bigger. Something important.

Bard realised he was probably in love with the guy when he broke Oakenshield’s nose after he had insulted Thranduil.

And regretted nothing.


	12. Assasin/target au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Modern!Barduil AU where Bard is assasin, and owner of biggest bank in this area "MoutinBank", Thorin Oakenshield hired him to kill his sworn enemy in buissnes, Thranduil Oropherion (Idk what kind of buisness he can have, maybe security? IT?). Bard accept offer but when he met Mr. Thranduil suddenly felt in love, and he couldn't kill him.

A long time ago, Bard had considered himself a good man. Now he could no longer claim such a thing. The man he had been was gone, and the one that was left was much darker. He had been a good, honest man when he was younger. Who worked hard to provide for his family - who put up with a lot of crap from coworkers and clients - but those days were gone. Now it was him who made the rules.

It had been on a desperate time, when he was an unemployed father of three, when he had first done a job as a hitman. He justified himself by saying that Smaug was a bad man anyways, that he was destroying the town, and that he was doing a service, while also providing a decent amount of money to give his three kids food and shelter. Just one little kill and he had enough money for months. But then another job appeared, because he’d been so efficient on the first, and Bard thought his kids deserved a better house.

And so it begun.

At first, he tried to convince himself that he was doing a good thing. Ridding the world of evil doers, terrible people. If someone was willing to pay a lot of money to be rid of them, they must have done something, right? After a while, he stopped thinking of his targets as people. This was his job and they were just… collateral damage. They were goners anyway, if it wasn’t him it would have been someone else.

It had been years and Bard had perfected his technique and his indifference. So, his job was unusual. His kids didn’t know what he did. It didn’t matter - they had a good life, and so did he. And yes, he now had enough means to retire, get off the grid, but… Why stop doing something you’re so good at? He had spent years perfectioning his choice of weapon, and a way to leave absolutely no trace - so he kept at it.

He gladly took the job Thorin Oakenshield, from Lonely Mountain Bank. Business competitor. He had done that a thousand times. And Oakenshield had given him a loaction and a way into his office to pass undetected. (They had some people on the inside, on the security department, that would let Bard in and make sure his face wasn’t recorded in security camera.) Just go in the office, shoot a few times with the silencer and leave, as quietly as possible.

Yes, it was going to be easy. Just another CEO with too many rivals.

There would probably be a lot of people happy to hear of his passing. Yes, he was just doing a service. (He’d lived without this need of justification for years, but a look from Sigrid, just a look had threatened to change things). No, he needed to do this, and if he didn’t someone else would. Maybe someone who wasn’t as humane as he was.

His mark, a man called Thranduil Oropherion, had his office in a top floor, where only his office and that of his assistant where. Better. No one to run into, no one to see him going in or out. Bard put the silencer on his gun while on the door of his office, swiftly and silently, he opened the door, got in. And then he heard something that stopped him on his tracks.

The man had his back to the door and to Bard, and was absent-mindedly watering the plants. But not just that.

He was singing.

And not just anything, but a song Bard knew by heart.

"All of my memories keeeep you near, in silent moments, imagine you here… All of my…"

That was when he turned around. And saw Bard, all dressed in black, gun with silencer pointing at him. He looked at the assassin with shock and sorrow. They stood in silence for a bit, neither knowing exactly what to do. Thranduil knew that if he made any sudden movements or lunged for something to defend himself the killer may instinctively fire his gun. So he just stayed there.

Bard was frozen, too. If this wasn’t a job but a bar or a PTA meeting, he would have smiled to this man, maybe attempt some conversation. He was oddly beautiful, he cared about his plants and he was singing Memories. But he was on a job. He had to kill him, no matter how interesting the mark could be.

The telephone broke their silence.

"Let me take this." Thranduil said, softly. "It’s my son. If I don’t answer he’ll make Tauriel come and see if everything is all right. She’s on the next office, and she’s armed. You don’t want that."

Bard silently nodded. Why hadn’t he killed this man already? Now he was going to have to wait until he was finished talking to his son, and it could be too long, or he might give some clue to alert the assistan. Why couldn’t he pull the trigger? Why?

Oropherion spoke to his son calmly, although it was easy to hear the sadness in his tone. He asked the boy about an exam and told him to have fun in a concert.

"I love you, Legolas. Please remember it."

Bard’s gun wavered. Was he really going to take a father from his son? Had he become that rotten? This was why he tried to know as little as possible about the marks. It only made things worse.

"At least I got a chance to say goodbye." Thranduil said after hanging up, with a strange doomed serenity.

But maybe this was a trick to make Bard feel bad and prevent him from shooting. Maybe there had been a business associate on the other line and he’d just said nonsense. Only one way to find out. Bard, still pointing the gun at the man, took one of the framed pictures in the desk, to see if there was a real son or a just some great achievement, that revealed the man’s ruse.  
No such luck. It was a blonde boy with a bow.

Bard looked at the man in front of him. He didn’t look anything like his others marks. Pale, blonde, tall. He was only wearing a pale brown shirt, the jacket and green tie on the desk chair. He wasn’t just some nameless CEO. He was a father who kept pictures of his boy close to him and took out his tie to water the plants.

"I hope this doesn’t affect him too much. He was too young to remeber his mother but me…"

Oh, this was great. He was going to leave that smiling blonde boy a complete orphan.

He couldn’t do it.

"This is what we are going to do." Bard said, giving up the job. "I am going to shoot you in an arm so we have a decent amount of blood - of your blood, in case there’s testing. That way.. we’ll have splatter, bullet casings, the whole deal. What is usually found when I do a job. You’re assistant, can we trust her?" Thranduil nodded. "Good. We’ll say that she had seen me and what happened so I had to dispose of your body and I burnt it. To be extra certain. She will call the cops and it will be as if you were really dead, investigation, the whole deal. You go totally off the grid, pull off your best Gone Girl while I try to solve this mess, see if Oakenshield believes it. The only people who can know the truth are your assistant and your boy. Absolutely no one else, ok? No one else."

"You’re… you’re sparing me?"

"You were singing Memories." Bard said, because that had probably been what made him stop in the first place.

"I can’t help it when I think of her. It makes me feel…closer."

"I know. It reminds of my wife as well. Now be still, I have to shoot you."

They set up the whole thing and spoke to the assistant, who set things in motion for Thranduil to escape after the initial shock.

"What is your name?" Thranduil asked before leaving.

"Bard."

The blonde approached him and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Bard."

And with a little bow, he left.

Bard knew he was getting himself in a lot of trouble… but for the first time in a long while, he felt proud of himself. He felt… at peace.


	13. Solitary Thranduil and cello player Bard!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Modern AU in wich Thrandy is the owner of some big corp, but never shows up in public (bc accident and face scars maybe partially blind) but her buttler-secretary? Tauriel is tired of watching him all isolated and since he used to loved music asks Bard to play for him. Bard works for them/her as driver? and studied cello when he was young bc rich grandpa before his family went poor. Cute worried Legolas also cool?

"We should do something." Tauriel said. "This has gone on long enough."

She was tired of seeing her boss in his office all day, never going out, never having fun. He was getting depressed, she knew, and she appreciated the man too much to just watch it happen.

"I know," Legolas answered, an anxious expression on his face."But what else is there to do? We’ve tried psychiatrists, hypnotists and I don’t know how many alternative therapies. He just won’t go out anymore. And I know that he says he’s okay in here but…"

"He’s not." Tauriel finished.

"I don’t want my dad’s life to be reduced to enterprise bills, self-loathing, business decisions on the inside of his studio and chronical pain! He should be happy, have contact with humans beings besides the two of us."

"I know, Legolas, I know. He used to be the soul of the party! And now he spends all his time alone, hating himself and his scars… But it’s not like we can forcing outside, or if that could do him any good…"

"Maybe… but maybe we can bring the things that used to make him happy here." Legolas suggested, feeling sly. Tauriel got what he getting at instantly.

"I see, so we cannot bring the forest into the house but we can build a greenhouse. We cannot take him out to parties but we can make parties here…"

"Yes! Greenhouse!" Legolas said, excited."We can tell him that we’re doing a new office for me, he always says yes to business things. And in the mean time we could bring him some music, maybe someone who plays the piano or the violin…"

"I know a cello guy!" Tauriel said excitedly.

"Then let’s get started."  
—————————-

Thranduil wasn’t too happy about this. Legolas would argue that wasn’t happy about anything anymore (and he wasn’t wrong, loath as he was to admit it) but that didn’t make this situation any better. Legolas (and Tauriel, he suspected) had brought an string quartet to “lighten up the mood”. And he was supposed to be there and watch the musicians, and let them see him.

It wasn’t just the scars or the milky eye that bothered him and had made him a recluse. They played a part, but they weren’t the only or the main reason. It was the pain, the constant pain on the left side of his face.

Doctors didn’t know where it was originating, some even doubted it existed. But it did. And it made everything so excruciatingly difficult. Just paying attention to something. Laughing. Eating. Existing without breaking down. Without his carefully thought routine and will-power, Thranduil wouldn’t be able to act so whole in front of his son. Wouldn’t be able to carry out work.

And it bothered him, the outside world, the people complaining about minial things when it was a wonderful life simply when you weren’t in pain all the fucking time and you had all of your face and all of your vision.

But Legolas had become increasingly worried about his reclusiveness, asking him to go out with him, to acompany him in travels, asking way too many times if he was okay, if he was happy. That wasn’t good. It was the parent’s job to be worried about the children, not the other way round. And if that wasn’t enough, now Tauriel was getting worried too. Why couldn’t they leave him be miserable in peace?

Anyways, this in-promptu concert had been Legolas’ idea, and he had been really excited, so he had to at least pretend to be happy and enjoying it. For the kid’s sake. (And maybe for Tauriel’s as well, she was just an employee and had shown a great amount of concern).

The concert was really good. Thranduil found himself lost in the beauty of the melodies. He was specially in awe of the talent of the cello player, a man about his age with dark hair and soulful eyes. For a moment, Thranduil forgot his troubles, the fires, her, his awful face, the pain. He forgot it all. There was only the music, and its beauty.

When the concert ended, there was a bit of a cocktail party with some of Legolas’ friends, some business associates, and of course, the musicians. Thranduil saw the cello man talking with Tauriel, and went to them, wanting to express his admiration.

"You two know each other?" He asked, not even introduing himself.

"Yes, it was Tauriel who convinced us to play here, actually. Hi, I’m Bard."

"And I am Thranduil."

Tauriel smiled a bit. The plan was working perfectly.

"I am going to get something to drink. You guys keep each other company, ok?"

And so she left.

"I wanted to tell you that you’re performance today has been incredible. Really touching." Thranduil said, and he meant every word. This man had reminded him of the beauty of the world, the beauty of life, and he wanted to know him and make sure he knew his work was appreciated.

"Wow, thank you.. that, that means a lot. Actually, it was I who wanted to thank you, and accepted this job to - to do it." Bard said, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

The kids were with a neighbour so this was his first night off in ages, and maybe he had drunk a bit too much to be having a conversation with such an incredibly beautiful man. Tauriel had told him not to stare at the scars and how could he, when the whole of him was so gorgeous? Bard was unprepared and too drunk for this. He was gonna screw up, he knew it.

"Thank me?" Thranduil asked, intrigued. "How so?"

"Well, my daughter is in music school thanks to one of your grants and I was told it is you personally who chooses the kids, so…"

"What is her name?"

"Sigrid! Sigrid Bowman. She played…."

"Rachmaninoff’s concert for piano number two. I remember her. How is she?"

"Great! She’s doing great. She comes with a smile from school every day."

Thranduil smiled. He remembered the girl, determined, talented, strong-willed. Not afraid of difficult parts. An artist, just like her father.

"Looks like there’s a lot of talent in the family, then." Thranduil said, playful.

"Oh, shut up, you gorgeous humanitarian stranger, you." Bard freaked out- _why did I say that?_ "I mean… thank you. Gosh, I’m sorry, I think I drank too much wine."

"There’s no such thing as too much wine." Thranduil said. "Let me refill your cup."

"I guess one more won’t hurt." This was taking an interesting direction. "So, do you play anything, Thranduil?"

"I used to play the harp, old-fashioned, I know, but it’s been a while. I haven’t played since the fire."

"I could teach you cello." Bard suggested, looking for an excuse to come back."I don’t work on Friday afternoons. As a thank you for Sigrid and you know… all this wine."

"It is tempting… but I couldn’t impose, on the free time that you have."

"It would be my genuine pleasure, you gorgeous harp person. My pleasure indeed."

* * *

 

Legolas and Tauriel watched the exchange, with a sense of acomplishment.

"How great are we? We just got your lonely dad and my lonely friend who is also a dad, back in the game."

"We’re so great." Legolas agreed.

"So great."

* * *

 

That night, both Bard and Thranduil smiled like they hadn’t in a long time, hopeful thoughts of the other filling their heads.


	14. Stranded in the elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: modern au fancy businessman-boss thranduil gets stuck in an elevator with an exhausted cubicle worker bard.

The situation was not ideal.

While on the lift to go back home from the office, the power had gone off, and Bard had become stranded in the elevator. Apparently, the whole skyscraper was without power and no one could get the generators to work. They knew that technicians were on it, looking for what had gone wrong with the generators, but still. They had warned that it could take a while.So he was trapped there, in that metal prison until who knew when, in between two floors.

And he was just so terribly tired and he wanted to go home and talk to the kids and stay in his couch because he spent too many hours in that cubicle and he just wanted to live for a bit, live beyond those oppressing walls, have a life beyond Mirkwood INC. It wasn't a bad place to work, and while the salary wasn't the greatest, it was decent enough for him to live and provide for his kids, so it wasn't all that bad in retrospect. It was simply too many hours, and not even a bit gratifying.

Bard's job was to take calls from customers, some just inquiring about expiration dates or asking about a product, but most of them angry. They were angry that the delivery was taking too long, angry about a defect, angry that the thing simply wasn't as good as they expected. Mirkwood produced all kinds of things, from organic food to wooden tables, and it had become one of the few (or the only one) eco-friendly enterprises to become an empire. (Which meant that they're products weren't cheap, of course, another common complaint of the people who called Bard.)

It wasn't something that Bard was passionate about, it wasn't his career dream, but hell, he couldn't turn down a salary like the one he had on the hopes of something better, not with three kids, and Sigrid's university closing in on him. But still, the weekends were highlights of his week. Finally arriving home and knowing he wouldn't have to go into that tiny cubicle for two days was the most joyful experience that he had.

But now he was stuck in a lift, and who knew when help would get here. It was fucking Friday at eight and a lot of places were closed, and a lot of streets were cut because of some parade.

If this wasn't bad enough, he wasn't alone in the lift, no, or with someone from his department. He was stranded in that lift with the boss of bosses, the king of the whole enterprise, the head of all Mirkwood. Thranduil Oropherion, tall, blonde and flawless in every sense. Which wasn't a terribly bad thing in itself (maybe he could sweet talk into a raise?) if it wasn't for the fact that Bard had been recently caught checking the man out. That made things slightly more awkward. (It wasn't his fault, really, those long talks from the vice president where just so terribly boring and Oropherion had such striking features, with those eyes, and that face, and that body, just... he got distracted, that's all).

And Thranduil had noticed and now he was on an elevator, trapped with the man.

They had already called with the emergency phone and Bard had already called his kids to tell them he could be late. What to do now? Pretend that he didn't know the man and stay in tense silence until they got help?

"Care to join me?"

That was the boss, who sat on the floor of the massive elevator, briefcase thrown to the side. Well, at least that way even though he'd be in tense silence, he could rest his legs.

"Sure."

Bard sat next to the executive, too tired to be nervous.

"What's your name?" Thranduil asked.

"Bard Bowman, sir." Apparently he didn't remember the incident of him checking him out. That was good.

"Are we treating you good here in Mirkwood, Mr. Bowman?"

"Well, I can't complain. I've got a lot of hours, a decent salary. Not much, but you know, but enough for me and the kids. Insurance is good, too."

"I am glad, then."

Up close, Bard could see the cracks in his boss' cold and flawless façade. There were little shadows under his eyes and he was breathing a bit funny.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I am going to let you in a little secret, Bowman. I do not like small spaces especially tightly closed small spaces. They make me feel... anxious. So this situation is not ideal for me."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

It made Bard feel I bit better, if he was honest. Although he wasn't enjoying himself, at least he knew that his boss was, for once, in a relatively equal situation.

"I could try to entertain you with some stories about my kids, or about customers."

The CEO's marble face looked pleadingly at his employee.

"Please, do."

And so Bard begun his tale of Bain's attempt at asking a girl out, Tilda's fight with three boys at once in the park (which she won) and an assortment of crazy clients that he'd spoken to.

"...so, although I've gotten used to it, I've also started losing faith in humanity as a whole."

Thranduil sent a small smile his way. Bard felt fucking shivers.

But it had been over an hour and no one had come. Although they had heard some noises on the outside, the power hadn't come back, and they were in a major power cut. Maybe they weren't the only ones with no power, maybe the whole block was and technicians were overworked. Bard noticed that Thranduil's hands were shaking.

"I usually take the stairs, but I fell from a horse a while back, and injured my leg. I hate that horse so much, I'm thinking of renaming him Oakenshield."

Bard laughed at the joke. He had heard tons of bads things about their elusive CEO, that he was cold, that he only cared about the company... But from he was standing (or sitting) Thranduil seemed none of those things. A bit mean, maybe but nothing intolerable. Maybe this was because Bard was seeing him in a realtively vulnerable position, but for an executive, he wasn't all that bad.

"What about you, sir? Any funny stories?"

"Well, there is this one time when I drank too much... But I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression..."

"Why would the impression of a mere call center person matter, sir?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Thranduil said, enigmatic.

And there was a weird noise and the elevator. It felt like... it felt like the mechanisms holding the lift in place where breaking down. And they would fall, in that metal cage, to the dark void and be crushed by the metal and... Thranduil's gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his.

He looked at the man beside him.

"They are going to get us out, don't worry."

The blond closed his eyes, hoping those words to be true.

"My wife died in plane crash." He said. "They never found her body. It's somewhere in the ocean. I wasn't a big fan of enclosed spaces before but now..."

And Bard could understand that. But thinking of awful things that happened in the past wouldn't make the time go faster. After a couple of minutes of silence, Bard had an idea.

"Let's not think about that. Why don't we use the back of these customer satisfaction forms to play some battleship. If I completely shatter you it won't affect my salary, right?"

Thranduil realised what he was doing and appreciated the effort.

"We'll see."

After a couple of games, the help finally came and they got out of the lift. When they were out and about to say goodbye, Thranduil became serious and icy again.

"I trust you will keep my weaknesses to yourself, Mr. Bowman, I have a reputation to mantain."

"Of course." Bard said, not wanting to jeopardise his job. Thranduil then smiled - and there was something almost naughty in his expression.

"Say, could I make it up to over dinner?"

"I thought it was against company policy to date within the workplace."

"I make the rules, Bard Bowman. I can change them as well."


	15. We both rented the same apartment au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Modern Barduil AU: a landlord accidentally rents the same apartment to Bard and Thranduil. Bard & kids move in one day, leave to school/work in the morning, and that's when Thanduil & son lug their stuff in and then fall asleep cos of driving all night. Kids come home from school and... go from there :)

That afternoon they came back to their home, where almost everything was still in boxes, but what was definitely their new home. A nice three bedroom apartment, with a view of the park. Close to the school and not that far from Bard’s work. He had picked up the kids from school after work and now they were going to spend their first whole day in their new home.

But when they got in something had changed. Sigrid was the first to notice.

"Da, there’s some sort of land mermaid sleeping in our couch."

_What?_

When Bard got closer he saw that there was indeed, something that seemed to be a man sleeping in his couch, although there was something…otherworldly about him. He was blond and pale, wore nothing but some black pants and a half-opened shirt and was sprawled in the sofa, taking all of it, feet dangling from the corner. His chest rose and fell rythmically and Bard stood there, rooted to the spot, for a good couple of minutes.

"Nah, I’d say it’s a nymph, you know, one of those magical guardians of the forest thing, like in Charmed." Bain interjected. A guardian of the forest. Bard could see where Bain was coming from. Although he could easily have been a nymph, Bard decided to add something that made sense to the conversation.

"It’s just a man. But why is there a man sleeping in our new house, I don’t know."

"Maybe he’s an angel!" Tilda said, excited. "The angel of new houses who brings luck to the people in it!"

"We should probably wake him up." Bard said, ever the sensible member of the family. "I mean, I don’t think he’s a robber because they don’t usually sleep in the houses they are robbing or take off their shoes, but…"

"Step away from my father, intruders!" A voice said behind them.

It was a blonde boy with a bow pointed at them. He would have been more threatening if he wasn’t in his pyjamas. Pyjamas with cutesy cartoon elks in them.

The land-mermaid/nymph woke up, startled by the noise.

"What is all this noise, Legolas? Can’t a man sleep for a few…? Oh, hello." He said noticing the Bowmans for the first time. "Who are these people, Legolas? Did you invite them?"

"Intruders, Ada! Trespassers!"

Thranduil sighed. He had only slept three hours after driving for what seemed eternity. He’d been so exhausted when he finally arrived that he didn’t even get to the bedroom, he just collapsed in the sofa. And when he hadn’t slept almost anything, they had to wake him up. A family was there, it would seem, a father and three children. Obviously not trespassers. You don’t bring kids to your robbing.

"Lower your bow, son. Who are you and what are you doing in our house?"

"Your house? This is our house, we just rented it." Bard corrected. "We got here yesterday."

"That can not be right… I have a contract that says this apartment is rented to us."

"I have one too!" Bard answered. Great. Just great. He hadn’t been in this apartment a day and already there were problems.

They called the landlord and found out that he had forgotten that he had rented the place, so he rented it twice. The blond man/slash mythical creature (Thranduil, Bard learned his name was, and it did sound a bit like the name of a nymph) looked really tired.

"One of us will have to leave." He said, trying to compose himself. He didn’t look his best in front of this stranger, and Thranduil had always been a serious, composed person. And now he was greeting this family in his black sweatpants. Unacceptable.

"But we had spent so long looking for a good place!" Legolas complained "And this has an archery place nearby for me and a park and a winery for me my Ada."

Thranduil put his hands in his face.

"You make me sound like a tree-hugging drunk."

"And that place for you to play the harp."

"And now I sound like a weird drunken tree hugger person. Thank you so much, son!"

That was when Tilda had a great idea.

"Why don’t we all live together here! I’ll sleep with Sigrid, Bain will sleep with…Legolas? And Da can sleep with Mr. Thranduil."

There was a sudden heat both men’s faces.

"Well, Tilda" Sigrid added, smiling."Maybe we should give them a couple of days to get to know each other… But yes, why not. They can sleep together."

"Sigrid!"

"I second that." Legolas added, amused.

"Legolas!"

"I’ll be honest, Ada, you’re a good dad, but I could really use a happier version of you."

Thranduil was rendered speechless. How was this happening? What had he done to deserve such embarrasment?

When he started functioning again, Bard tried to solve the situation.

"Why don’t we let your father sleep for a while longer and the meantime the rest of us think of ideas to solve this situation, eh?"

Thranduil smiled.

"Yes, thank you, Bard. You are a life saver."

And he left slowly and Bard watched him go, taking in his figure, making a little happy sound when the door closed.

"Not a word, Sigrid! Not a word!"


	16. Reincarnation modern au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: I've another prompt to you! Again Modern!AU, where Thranduil is still alive hundred years before BOTFA, and suffer Bard death. One day he goes to grocery and suprisly met someone who looks exacly like Bard, but much younger with his wife/girlfrend in car. He tried to forget, but can't. Few years later someone cut a lot of his trees, and made place for cementery. He want revenge, but find out there is lying Bard's wife. And Bard reborn as elf. And he had dreams about Thranduil from previous live.

“I’m here.”

“You’re really here.”

“And now I’m here forever.”

The world had changed a lot, and Thranduil with it. It had been thousands of years since he had been king, thousands of years since he’d lived in his forest, sat on his throne. Now everything was different and Thranduil had had to adapt to try to fit in.

He worked in environment preservation now, trying to save what little forests were left. When they asked about his strange sounding name, he said he was Scandinavian, from Iceland, and people replied that, yeah, they figured out that much. He led a nice quiet life, not great and not too bad either. He had a good house, lived closed to a national park and access to wine and books. The day-to-day wasn’t all that bad.

The worst part where the memories. Thranduil remembered almost obsessively the people he had love and lost. And it was painful, because he felt he didn’t remember them well anymore. Bard’s face was blurred in his mind, blurred by the time that had passed.

Until that moment when it was in front of him, painfully clear.

He’d been doing the weekly grocery shopping, thinking about cheese when a couple came into his view.

It was him. It was Bard and he was young and alive and in front of him and how could it be him? The man who could not be Bard looked at him in the eye. The shock was too much and Thranduil passed out, right then and there.

When he came to, Bard’s face was hovering over him.

“Hey, you all right?”

Thranduil tried to sit up.

“Easy, easy. My wife is calling an ambulance.”

“No, please… I’m fine. There’s no need for hospitals.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“Honey, he woke up, he says he’s fine, and not to call.”

Thranduil looked at that young man again. That was Bard’s face and body, that was absolutely him -and yet- it wasn’t him.

“You scared us a bit there.” Not-Bard said, while the wife came back.

“I am sorry… I’ve been working too much and I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.”

“You sure you’re all right? You were out for a good couple of minutes there, and you’re still really pale.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m Brad.” Brad instead of Bard. BLASPHEMOUS. This is Suzie. If you want, we can go with you to a clinic or something, it’s really no problem.”

“I appreciate the concern, but really, there’s no need. Thank you for help.”

And so Thranduil watched them go, still assaulted by a lot of grief and a lot memories that were now excruciatingly clear. All those little moments, all the little parts of his lover came to him and drowned him. How they laughed, how they rode together, how they walked on the forest. Watching Sigrid, Bain and Tilda grow, tearing up in the weddings, all the good moments, all caresses under the sheets and that they had meant to each other.

And that Thranduil wept and cried himself to sleep because he’d realised that even if his beloved came back, he would have a different life, different friends and interests and he, that Elven thousands-old monster would never have any place in it. He wouldn’t ever be able to continue those moments they had. He remembered Bard, but Bard couldn’t remember him.

It hurt so much.

Thirty years later, he went back to the city and found out that Brad had died with his wife in a car crash. He left a single white rose on the tomb. He had thought of trying to befriend the man, to at least get some comfort in the familiar face, but it had hurt too much.

“Thranduil.”

A voice behind him said. No. It couldn’t be. It had be his head, playing tricks on him. Thranduil turned around and found him, again. But there was something different about him… He wasn’t a man anymore.

He had been born again… an elf. An elf like him. Could it really be possible?

“I have been waiting for you, for this moment. For a long time I dreamed of a king, more beautiful than the sun and the moon and the starlight combined. I dreamt of you, my Elvenking, I dreamed of us, even if I had never met you. But you are far more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

Thranduil could not believe his luck. His eyes got bright and tears escaped them.

“Is this real?” He asked.

“I’m here.”

“You’re really here.”

“And now I’m here forever.”

It felt almost too good to be true. The elf Bard came to Thranduil and wiped the tears that kept falling.

“No more tears, Thranduil. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. You will not lose me anymore.”


	17. Singing contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barduil modern AU where they are in a singing reality show

Three judges sat in front of the stage: singer Galadriel, record company boss Elrond and the unavoidable mean judge, Saruman.

“We have a lot of talent today, don’t we Galdriel?”

“We sure do, Elrond! Lots of young and not so young singers, all bursting with talent. And who will get the trip and cash prize? I predict that today it will difficult to choose. What do you think, Saruman?

“If I hear another song about the joys of breakfast, I’m gonna scratch someone’s eyeballs out.”

“A ray of sunshine, as usual.” Elrond continued.”I remind our viewers that the winner will be chosen with your votes as well as your verdict, so don’t forget to call and vote for your favourite!”

“Let’s hear it for the first contestant, a fiery redhead. What’s your name, dear?” Galadriel asked, while the young redhead looked at the judges, slightly nervous.

“Tauriel.”

“And what are you going to sing, Tauriel?”

“Radioactive.” she answered. “But I’m doing Within Temptation’s version.”

“A cover of a cover. How terribly original.” Said Saruman sarcastically.

But Tauriel paid no mind to the unkind words of the old man and got ready. The song was powerful, popular and she sang with strength – a good start for the show. Then came some of the other contestants, an old man that tried to sing opera but didn’t convince anyone, a lady who sang a folk song, two young men who tried some ska and after a girl who sang Kesha, came Bard. It was his turn.

It had been the kids who had convinced him to try it and know he was a bit nervous. He’d never done anything like that and there would be people watching, judges, a live audience and a whole bunch people watching in TV and on the internet. He was too old for this, wasn’t he? But the kids had insisted… They were so happy to his Da in the stage of their favourite show, and he couldn’t let them down.

At least he wouldn’t be alone, he’d have three or four backing singers. That was good.

He got on the stage.

“Hi… I’m Bard.”

“Tells us a bit about yourself, Bard.” Galdriel said. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Laketown and I..uh.. I have three kids who were the ones that convinced me to do this.”

Galadriel smiled, making Bard feel a bit more at ease.

“What are you singing?”

“Uptown funk.”

“Well, good luck then.”

It was a rocky start, because the song was so upbeat and didn’t go well with Bard’s anxiety, but when the familiar lyrics started and he started singing he forgot a bit abut his nerves. He had sang that song thousands of times and by then it was already like an old friend. By the first “make a dragon wanna retire man” Bard felt comfortable already and kept singing and dancing, like he did at home. The kids watched, happy.

The performance was a roaring success. He got the audience to sing with him, to dance, to lose themselves completely and just enjoy every allelujah, every uptown funk you up and every last bit of the song. They all ended up with smiles in their faces – which was good. Bard was smiling, too. It had been a better experience than expected.

Then came the time of the judges.

“That was real good, Bard.” Elrond started. “For a non-professional singer, you did quite good vocally. And the dancing was great, too, you’ve shown a lot of passion and the audience has really responded.”

“Thank you.”

Then it was Saruman’s turn.

“I’m just really bored of that song. You brought nothing new.”

Well, it could have been worse.

“I think you are run-ins for that prize.” Galdriel finished. “Good job.”

And so the next contestants came in and for a moment it did look like he had a chance to win. Which would be awesome because he could really use that money to fix the house and save a little. He didn’t care all that much about the trip, it was probably for two anyways, so he couldn’t take the kids. But the money, the money would a welcome surprise.

Then there was someone who threatened his victory.

“Your name?”

“Thranduil. I’m singing Take me to church.”

He was pale and tall and beautiful and wore a pale grey shirt that slightly opened and had blond hair that cascaded beyond his shoulder and startling blue eyes.

“Wow, is he an angel?” Tilda asked. He certainly looked the part.

And the he started singing and it was even worse. Because the voice he had was amazing and how he moved was amazing and WOW how could someone simply sing so incredibly well. By the first Amen all the judges were already in awe. By the second verse the audience too was drinking every of his movements.

“Good god, let me give you my life.” The stranger sang and someone behind him said I’d give HIM my life and Bard couldn’t help but replying with an “Amen”.

“He’s really good.” Sigrid said.

“And he’s gorgeous.” Bard said, momentarily forgetting who he was speaking to. Oops.

“Two things, Da. One: I’m glad we’ve reached that phase where we can talk about men freely. Two: I still think you’ll win because you got everyone dancing.”

“I don’t know. But I didn’t expect to win anyways, so it’s okay.”

The next contestants were a pair of brothers called Fili and Kili, who sang the Wild Rover loudly and terribly. Their brutal “no nay never no more”s contrasted greatly with the grace and elegance of the previous contestant. Saruman was extra mean with those two, even if they hadn’t been all that bad. (Sigrid was offended because she liked one of them. Bard wanted to say something funny and joke about it but she’d easily get back at him because he’d been like that just one song before that).

Two songs more and it ended.

Now came the turn for the summary, the voting and the moment each contestant tried to convince the viewers why they should vote for them. Bard had a little speech about how he could really use the money and that they would help him a lot, but…

“Why do you think you should win, Bard?”

“Well, I… You know what, I shouldn’t win. Take me to church man should win, I mean, what I did was fun, but he did was art. I mean, wow.”

“You weren’t bad yourself, funky man. Not bad at all.” Thranduil said, with that flirtatious smile.

Then the moment of the final verdict came, where they took into account the points given by the judges, the votes of the live audience and the votes of the viewers.

“And the winner is…. the winners actually are, ladies and gentlemen, we have a tie! Bard and Thranduil, congratulations!”

The crowd exploded in applause and Bard and Thranduil stepped up. Bard’s kids got in to, to congratulate him, very excited. They both held a huge check and were given flowers.

“Say what, why don’t you take the money and I take the trip.” Thranduil said to Bard.

“Great! Really great, you sure you don’t mind?”

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone to come with me on the trip…I could get kind of lonely.”

“Our Da could go with you!” Tilda said.”We get the nanny and he gets the holiday he won! Right, Da?”

Bard was speechless.

“I – ah … hems… I gdsbw..”

“What an unusual but lovely couple of winners we have today.” Elrond said.

Galadriel continued.

“Indeed. A great night for talent… and love.”

“Now kiss!” Someone in the audience asked. Before they knew it, the whole audience (and Galadriel and like half of the other contestants) were chanting KISS! KISS! KISS!

Thranduil looked at Bard.

“May I?”  
Bard looked at his kids. Sigrid’s look was intense.

“If you say no, I swear to god, Da…”

“You may.”

Bard and Thranduil’s kiss lasted for almost two minutes and was the highest-rated moment of the whole show.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! All feedback very welcome ^^ You can still send prompts like these to my tumblr (username claracivry) if you want one.  
> Thanks for reading! Do comment!


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